Bressant eBook

At that very moment, or even an incalculable instant
before, the professor’s voice was heard calling
loudly from without:

“Come—­come! be quick! you’ll
be too late!”

She rose and fled from the room; but it was too late,
indeed.

CHAPTER XIV.

NURSING.

After seeing Cornelia off, Professor Valeyon bethought
himself of Abbie; she must be wondering what had become
of her late boarder, and he resolved to stop at the
house, and give her an account of the accident.
He had got some distance beyond the boarding-house
when the idea occurred to him. Just as he was
about to head Dolly round in the opposite direction,
he discerned a figure beyond, beneath an umbrella,
which looked very much like the person he was seeking.
He drove on, and in a few minutes overtook her.

“Going up to the Parsonage?” cried the
old gentleman, getting gallantly down into the mud.
“Here, jump up into-the wagon; I want to tell
you about your—­boarder.”

“He—­there’s nothing the matter
with him, of course?” said Abbie, with a short
laugh. She was looking very pale, and as if she
had not slept much of late. “No, don’t
drive mo to the Parsonage; take me home, if you please,
Professor Valeyon. Well, about Mr. Bressant?”

“Doing very well now; he was pretty seriously
hurt.” And he went on to give a short account
of what had happened, which Abbie did not interrupt
by word or gesture; she sat with her head bent, and
her lips working against each other.

“It’s quite certain he’ll recover?”
she asked, when all was told.

“As certain,” quoth the professor, non-committally,
“as any thing in surgery can be.”

“It wouldn’t be safe to move him, of course?”

“Not till he’s a good deal better; you
see, the collar-bone—­”

“Yes, I’ll take your word for it,”
said Abbie, very pale. “Well, I’m
glad he’s in such good hands. If I had him
he wouldn’t be comfortable; I should be sure
to do him more harm than good; it’s better as
it is; much better.”

She spoke in an inward tone, looking vacantly out
into the rain, and fumbling with the handle of her
umbrella.

“But you’ll come up and see him once in
a while, at the Parsonage?”

Abbie shook her head. “No, no, Professor
Valeyon; why should I? Do you suppose he wants
to see me? do you suppose he’s thought of me
once since he went away? It would be a strange
thing for an educated, intellectual, wealthy young
man like him to do, wouldn’t it?” asked
Abbie, with a smile.

The professor’s eyes met hers for a moment,
and then she looked away. Presently she spoke
again:

“I’d a great deal rather leave this world
as I’ve lived in it, for the last twenty years
and more, than run any risk of making a blunder.
I don’t want things to change, Professor Valeyon;
but if they do, it musn’t be through any act
of mine, or yours either.”